


Textual Manipulation

by wasureneba



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Gen, Hogwarts Era
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-29
Updated: 2013-08-29
Packaged: 2017-12-24 23:53:36
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 356
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/946191
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wasureneba/pseuds/wasureneba
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which Tom Riddle becomes Voldemort.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Textual Manipulation

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Gamma_Orionis](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gamma_Orionis/gifts).



> This was written for an exchange in Ravenclaw House at Hogwarts is Home a long while ago.

He sat behind the drawn curtains of his bed, idly moving the letters around. _Tom Marvolo Riddle_ , words broken down into silvery letters of light, swirling in front of him. What a name, he thought; given to him by Muggle filth and an imbecile of a mother who apparently didn't know the name _Thomas_. 

He sent the letters chasing each other with a flick of his wand. It was no good. An ambitious man could never have such a commonplace name, let alone---he could barely whisper it to himself still, whisper the plans that had been growing inside him--- _a ruler_... _undying_.

It made his heart thump.

He kept swirling the letters, wondering what name he could shed this one for. He had thought for so long on this; pondered so many names, so many epithets with associations of power and glory and splendor, and nothing worked. He didn't want another man's name; he didn't want associations. He wanted to forge something new, something that a man could look up to in fear and wonder. He sat back on his pillows, gazing into the alphabet maelstrom in front of him. His eyes unfocused and he found his mind floating away, as if he was falling into the silver cloud.

He didn't know how long he sat there, idly watching, before he saw them glimmering together. He froze the cloud and pulled the three letters to the side. _I am_. He liked the sound of it. This was strength---to claim who you were, a simple statement of being, bold and decisive. He flicked his wand again, to set the other letters moving, and watched intently for words to form.

_Lord_ , oh yes, a powerful title---they would bow to him as their lord, bow with eyes downcast. The letters kept swirling, and he sat back again, the feathers of his pillow itching his neck; he batted at them distractedly. There were no real words in there, he thought, nothing that he recognized; nothing except---

_mort_.

He began to laugh as he flicked the letters into line. Oh, yes, the flight from death. How very _appropriate_.


End file.
